


Cross Purposes

by Tah_Ripley



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Loss of Virginity, My First Smut, Worried not smutty enough
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2014-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-28 03:41:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2717534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tah_Ripley/pseuds/Tah_Ripley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tyrion and Sansa have sex. They have slightly different thoughts running through their heads. Tyrion becomes particularly disturbed at his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cross Purposes

**Author's Note:**

> I love shipping Tyrion and Sansa but I'm also aware that they have some differences and I wanted to illustrate them a bit. Also I always wonder what other people think about when they are having sex.

Sansa’s world was a precarious as ever. Still a prisoner, in a marriage she felt nothing but shame for, but at least surviving.

It had happened on her way back to her quarters that afternoon. It was Joffrey again – not that novel really. It was in a quiet corridor, he was followed by 2 blank faced knights. Pushed against the wall, she kept her head down as he groped her breast and tried to think of other things as he hissed at her.

“Still a maid I hear, are you waiting for me to cover for my uncle’s inabilities. Shall we sort out the sad affair right here?”

His hand was beginning to roam further down when he was interrupted by a messenger who acted oblivious as to what was happening. Sansa didn’t fully hear what was said but took comfort when Joffrey accepted that he was wanted elsewhere. “Later my little traitor bitch, I need to take a maidenhead before my wedding and yours will suit me fine.” She felt like collapsing as they moved off, each knight feeling a need to give her a lecherous smirk before taking leave, but she had to survive. She rushed on to her rooms.

She wished briefly she was more like Ayra – that she had some of that power that the knights had. She didn’t, she couldn’t do anything to affect Joffrey. But she could change something about herself.

\---------------------------------------

Tyrion wasn’t normally in his rooms at this hour. His morning had been unpleasant and frustrating. Chasing around numbers on Littlefinger’s ledgers – back and forth across the books but never adding up to what was needed. He had hoped he might find Shae to cheer him. The plan only worked in half – he found her but they quarrelled and left him worse rather than better. She took exception to him objecting that she had allowed Sansa out without her protection.

Well, it would just have to be down to his old friend wine to help. Wine was always reliable, he thought. He was just about to call for some when Sansa burst in, her tearful state only too obvious. _Splendid, the other woman in my life has come to cheer me up_.

“Sansa, tell me what the matter is,” he tried to keep the weariness out of his voice.

Sansa approached him with her eyes cast down, reached his table and stared at him for a few moments. Then said, “My lord, Joffrey will not leave me be until……he wants,” she focussed on the wall tapestry before finding the courage to continue speaking. When she did it was in such haste all the words rolled into one. “He-wants-my-maidenhood-which-I-do-not-want-him-to-have-so-you-have-to-take-it-but-I-don’t-want-to-share-my-bed-with-you-after-that,” she spat out and then added, as a polite afterthought, “if it so pleases my lord.”

It took a while for Tyrion to take in what she had said and longer yet to digest the proposition. It was, he felt, one of the most depressing invitations to bed he had ever had, but ironically from probably one of the most attractive companions. He was doomed to agree, in truth he had never rejected any such offer. Still his misgivings remained which gave him an air of caution. Also he felt that if he was only going to get one crack of the whip, as it were, it should at least be on his terms. “Very well, my lady. I am happy to perform the act tonight but,” he paused, not really sure what he was going to ask for, “I would ask that you give consideration to my greater, ummm, experience in these matters and…” He just wanted to feel he wasn’t being used as his cock was just marginally less offensive than the insane king’s, he wanted to feel he wasn’t being completely played as a pawn, he wanted some kind of control, “I insist you do as I bid you.”

Sansa looked down at him, but was uncomfortable meeting his gaze, there was something disconcerting about it. After a moment she realized what bothered her, it was his pride. He was staring at her as if he, the imp, had a perfect right to make demands of her and her body. Perhaps she was also just slightly disappointed that he hadn’t taken the matter in hand immediately. She mumbled, “Of course my lord.”

“Tyrion”

“Of course, Tyrion.”

“Good, well I suggest you stay here in the protection of our rooms….I must,” _I must get out of here before I just decide to fuck you over the table and ruin the event in the blink of an eye,_ “I have affairs to be dealt with, so I shall meet you again at dinner.”

He left, posting Bron outside. Sansa sat and considered the arrangement she had just made. She still felt sure of her logic. However humiliating it might feel to be known to have lain with such a man as her husband she could bare that better than having Joffrey at her whenever she left her room. Her main concern was that once he had been given access he would feel free to use her as he wanted but decided she could trust him. He had left her alone since their wedding after all. It was just, something in the way he had said she must do as he bid her. She had no idea what that might mean, and feared that he might want to do something unnatural. Maybe he had to do the act in some kind of unnatural way, due to his stature. _Oh gods_ , thought Sansa, _what have I agreed to?_.

\------------------------------

Tyrion walked as fast as he was able, albeit in a directionless meander, around the grounds. The exertion helped him think and eventually form a plan. Not detailed, but tactics. He did want her to enjoy the event. Not least as he reasoned she might even let him in again if it goes well enough. _Best pull one off this afternoon,_ he thought, _to keep from being too keen._

So with a pleasantly legitimate excuse for self-abuse he made his way home.

\-----------------------------

Dinner was awkward at best. Their conversation, rarely sparkling, was essentially nil. Sansa felt only nerves but they were underlined by her characteristic determination. Tyrion though would have been hard pressed to comprehensively cover all his emotions. There was certainly lust but also guilt that this girl had been put into the situation and anger at those guiltier parties such as his father. She was barely out of childhood. She would probably still look like a child. He started wondering what Sansa would look like under her clothes, initially pretending it was on objective thought to calculate if she would look mature enough to fuck and then realizing it was going horribly towards lusty imaginations. _Enough,_ he thought, _go to this before self-loathing makes me impotent._

He wanted above everything else to not appear like a hideous lecher so did his best to speak with in a calm even tone.

“Sansa, are you are of the same mind as before?”

She gave a small but decided nod.

“Then please go to the bedroom, take off your garments, and lie on the bed facing the wall opposite the door. I will join you presently.”

She left, hopefully to do as he’d asked. Just one more small glass of wine, he thought.

\--------------------------

She was in the bedroom waiting. She was nervous of course, her mind kept beginning to think up scenarios that she didn’t have enough knowledge to visualise but terrified her none-the-less. She forced herself to be calm, told herself that Tyrion would not be cruel to her and was many times better than Joffrey. She thought about her little husband, he had saved her from harm before and had respected her wishes in their marriage. Yes, she thought, he is not such a bad man. Strangely as she lay waiting, she found herself thinking of her old septa, she could be stern, especially to her sister, but she had been very fond of her. She had never understood how Ayra was always in trouble while she got the praise. Ayra just never liked being told what to do, she realized, while she, Sansa, rather liked to be given instructions or even commands, and then have the pleasure of fulfilling them without wondering too much about why.

\-----------------------

Before long Tyrion let his lust win out over his misgivings and come to the bedroom. He undressed gracelessly and clambered into the bed while Sansa kept her back to him and her eyes on the wall.

She had covered herself in a thin bedsheet which he was just about to peel away from her when he felt bound to check she was still prepared to let him do this. He spoke close to her ear and said, “Sansa, you must tell me, do you still want me to have you?”

His voice was so close and so low it quite shocked her. “Yes, my lord.”

He felt like groaning at ‘my lord’ but decided it not the best time to correct her.

“Close your eyes and think of your Knight of Flowers.”

He lent down and kissed the back of her neck several times. _What a neck,_ he thought, _an amazingly long neck, almost too long a neck, and definitely no child could have a neck this long._ Having bolstered his conscience he let his light kisses continued down and then he began to very gently trace shapes with the tips of his fingers around the small of her back.

Despite having given himself a good pleasuring just a short while earlier he felt his desire wanting attention. He tried to bore it out and began, not for the first time, to attempt a comprehensive list of all the whores he had ever known. He was in the habit of learning a whore’s name and had a considerable memory. It was a pastime that seemed appropriate for the bedroom and yet involved quite a degree of cognitive effort that tended to quieten down the worst demands of his own lust.

He was just battling between the twin aims of slowly increasing the size of his finger’s circlings to reach the lower parts of Sansa’s bottom and trying to remember if the Brunette in Kayce was called Annetta or Annalina when he was distracted by a small gasp from the woman in front of him.

\---------------------------

Sansa had started to imagine Loras Tyrell. It didn’t stretch her maiden imagination to feel him kissing her so lightly and gently on her neck. It felt right to follow her lord husband’s instructions and think about the delicate times they might have had together at Highgarden. She had taken a little wine and it felt quite easy to relax into a soft lull, enjoying the surprising pleasure of the light pressure of his fingers on the base of her spine. Then they began to glance very lightly on to the cheeks of her backside. Now Sansa found it harder to imagine she was with Loras – it was a little too intimate, somehow a little too raw. It was something that she didn’t think proper high-born couples would do together. She was quite certain that her father and mother never…..well her thoughts couldn’t continue with that line of thinking. It felt like something that happened outside of proper marriage beds. _This is what he does with his whores_ , she thought, but rather than the idea disgusting her she found herself shivering with quite a different feeling and couldn’t help a whimper escape from her lips.

\---------------------------

 _Well that’s promising_ , thought Tyrion. His list was, at least for the moment, suspended. He put some pressure to the back of Sansa’s upper thigh, but as she wasn’t very pliant leant down again to her ear and said, “move your leg forward.” He didn’t want to distract her from what he was hoping was a pretty little fantasy so he avoided excessive courtesies. He was also keen to avoid sounding demanding or overly desperate so he ensured his voice was even and unwavering. When her knee had slid down so it was resting on the bed he had access to her pretty slit. Whilst tempted to ram his favourite appendage down there immediately he knew he had to be patient and he edged his index finger towards her clit.

\--------------------------

There was a strange thrill Sansa didn’t wanted to admit to in obeying her husband’s command. _Command?_ Yes it was definitely a command, coming in that shockingly deep low voice that tickled her ear. _This must be how he talks to whores._ She was just considering this idea when she felt his fingers nearly inside her. It was a shock. It was a confusing shock. Poor Sansa thought she had been adequately informed about what would happen and she was fairly certain it was a quite different part of the man that was supposed to go around there. Perhaps she had been told wrong, or understood wrong or….. _dear gods that feels nice._ She knew she had let another gasp escape and felt horribly embarrassed. The feeling wasn’t actually so novel to her but it was an almost completely repressed memory.

It felt an age ago now. When she thought Joffrey her beautiful prince, and she saw their future stretching out together. Alone in her bed she had an urge to touch herself but experienced almost equal amounts of shame to her pleasure which prevented her coming even close to a satisfying conclusion. She thought she must have some kind of aberration to want to touch herself somewhere which it was forbidden even to talk about. _How does he know?_ She wondered. With someone else’s fingers there she didn’t feel the shame. _I have to let him do this_ she thought, the growing warmth flooding around her as she let herself slide into submission.

\-----------------------

On balance this was going better than expected. Sansa’s mews were very quiet but definitely there and she was surprisingly wet. The only drawback was the struggle to avoid diving straight in to get release. _Oh unholy gods this is getting unbearable_ , he tried to enjoy the struggle, and there was some kind of pleasure in keeping himself restrained but the appreciation of that was an art he hadn’t had much practice in. He wasn’t an utterly unselfish lover though he was, almost always, a paying customer. He wanted to be liked, but still….a little bit of effort seemed to go quite a long way with whores. They were normally screaming to high heaven by this point – Sansa was considerably more reserved. He might have felt more comfortable if he hadn’t the suspicion that Sansa might change her mind at any minute and he would be back to relying on his own hand again.

Eventually he made himself a deal, _if a few minutes of licking her doesn’t get anywhere then it’s fair enough to get on with it – she might just be pleased to have it done and have the bed to herself again_.

\------------------------

Sansa felt that she was losing control of herself, the warmth that had started _around there_ was beginning to move out, she felt her legs shudder and a kind of tingle around her back. She wasn’t without fear, not her original fear that was about pain and discomfort. Now she feared losing control, feeling that something was happening to her body that she couldn’t regulate. Her disorientation made her cling to one thought in her head. _This is my husband, I have to submit, I have to let this happen._

She struggled to keep her lips clamped together, her shame at her pleasure silencing her. But then she found herself moved onto her bottom, he was between her legs, she readied herself for what she expected but was challenged by yet another new experience.

She lost her thoughts, her mind was blank, she could not acknowledge consciously to herself what she was feeling between her legs, what was happening. This was an unimagined debauchery, surely utterly wrong in a marriage bed. Her last vestiges of control went, she opened her lips and cried out. It felt like her whole body shuddered, shuddered again…..and then went still. She lay back, somehow she had lost all the air in her lungs and she breathed hard to get it back.

As the ecstatic feeling quelled she regained her thought. Her fears returned. _He hasn’t actually done it. He hasn’t put his thing in me. So I’m still a maiden, oh no, what if he can’t?_

_\--------------------_

Tyrion felt entitled to a degree of smugness. He felt sure she had enjoyed that. He took a few moments to enjoy watching her lieing back, flushed and covered in a clammy sheen of perspiration. He began taking off his breeches, imagining a future when she would gently, with great embarrassment, ask him, maybe even beg him to come to her bed again. Then she spoke:-

“My lord, are you _able_ to take my maidenhood?”

It was asked out of fear and confusion but Tyrion’s only recently buffered self-esteem was crushed and he heard it as a taunt.

“Yes my lady, I can,” and then he immediately did.

\-------------------

She gasped. It was impossible not to. It wasn’t through pain, although there was some discomfort but that was outweighed by a pleasure in the sensation of being filled, feeling a type of wholeness.

He was so much nearer her now, right there, in front of her. She felt an embarrassment return and closed her eyes. A novel type of weariness overcome her, she relaxed back and found herself smiling. She didn’t feel comfortable enough to review what had just happened, what she had felt. But she was happy just to have experienced that warm pleasure that had been so unexpected. She gasped again. _Maybe it was coming back_. She opened her eyes and looked into his.

\--------------------

It wasn’t exactly how he had envisaged the act, but _oh the relief,_ such a tight grip around him, quite a difference from a woman who had laboured away in a whore-house for years. Come to think of it, quite different from Shae. A different type of guilt crept up on him – he drove all thoughts out. _This isn’t betrayal – this is just doing my duty_. And it was a hell of a lot better than when his duty mostly consisted of drainage works.

He wanted to hold this moment, remember this image of the beautiful innocent girl he was…… _oh gods this poor girl he was defiling, is this what she wanted? He had practically attacked her._ She seemed content - she looked up at him and smiled. Such a pretty little smile. Then his mind, continuing it’s good service, managed to do two things at once. It sent a message to finally break the building tension and send waves of ecstasy through him just exactly at the same time as it threw up an image of Myrcella smiling a pretty little smile at him. He didn’t ask his mind if these things were connected. He really, really didn’t want to know.

He sunk down on to her chest and then removed himself. He didn’t want to look at her – it seemed uncourteous but he felt a horror at what his mind had suggested. He couldn’t bare to think about it and he needed to get away from this young woman.

It made a horrible kind of a sense. If his upstanding big brother had enough of the vice to drive him to his sister’s bed, then he, the degenerate of the family, would surely go lower and want to……..he couldn’t complete the thought. Hadn’t he always just loved his little niece as an uncle should?

He moved over to the couch without saying a word to Sansa.

\--------------------

Sansa lay on the bed, pondering the evening. _Well,_ she thought pragmatically, _that definitely rid me of my maidenhood._ She tried to think about how this should be made public and the best way to act to make her repellent to Joffrey. Before gaining any kind of clarity on the matter though, memories popped into her head of what had just happened. How good it had made her feel. How Tyrion had made her feel. Trying to avoid considering the implication of any of this she just sunk back into a luxuriant memory of the sensation she felt as he put his…. _was it actually his tongue?_

She rather wished that he had stuck with his custom of late and stayed in their bed albeit at the far side. She wasn’t sure what she wanted exactly but it seemed a shame that he had chosen the couch again. But she understood exactly why he did it and why he hadn’t said a word to her since the act. It communicated that he was respecting her wishes and would not force himself upon her again. _Well not unless….._ she didn’t finish the thought but fell into a happy slumber.

\-------------------

Tyrion didn’t sleep for many hours. He couldn’t find any rest until he attempted a terrifying mental experiment. If the results went badly he felt a dramatic gesture should be made – going to the wall to take the black, or perhaps just directly chopping off his manhood.

He gritted his teeth and attempted to imagine a sexual act between himself and Myrcella – barely had any kind of mental image begun before he felt nauseous, grotesque, revolted, and completely, utterly unaroused. _Yes!_ \- this was the greatest relief of the evening – _he didn’t want to fuck his niece._ He fell into a contented sleep.

 

**Author's Note:**

> First attempt at this. You don't have to be kind and write a supportive comment (I'm always rubbish at doing that) but would be super delighted if you did - and let me know if anything doesn't make sense. Or any typos, or general grammar break-downs. Or even if you think it's rubbish. Nice if you could be a bit tactful. 
> 
> I can have some ideas of how to progress a bit - so let me know if anyone wants to have a bit more of the same.


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